


Yesterday's Memory

by orphan_account



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Meet a Cassian with a different story. He regrets certain choices in his life. Is it too late already? His guilt takes him back to key moments of his life, back in the 70s when he was an intelligence officer during the Cold War. There he met her. But things were not that easy... Time had always been at his heels.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is different. Really different. No lightsabers, no X-wings, no space whatsoever. It's about a man and what he did(n't) do in his life. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Short chapters, set in Germany today, time jumps from now to the 70s.

Swollen fingers, sore throat

Cassian reached for his cup. He had fought many battles in his life, but age and the slow, unstoppable decay of his body was the toughest of them all. His fingers were still swollen to tiny cucumbers from some medication the doctors found to be unavoidable. Cassian knew after birth just one thing was certain – death. With every day in this godforsaken rest home he thought of it in brighter colours. His journey had been long, and he had suffered many scares along the way. His crooked fingers finally got a proper grip around the cup and he could ease the soreness in his throat with the cold water. His back made that awkward noise while he leaned forward.  
From time to time a nurse went in to refill his cup or to feed him. He hated to be cared for. He hated being old. The only thing about his situation he found acceptable was his loneliness. He had never looked after others, so why should they? The television programmes seemed to have a competition going on to lower the quality bar as near to the ground that even a toddler or an old man like himself could crawl above without touching it. So Cassian zapped through the channels in never-ending circles till the sun set in front of the window. Sadly, he could never look out as it was in line with his feet, not his eyes. The nurse came a final time, washed him, brushed his remaining teeth, and prepped him for bed, for the same bed he had been lying in all day. But today it was a different nurse, not Hilde the old ghastly dragon. Because he had been raised Catholic, he had never complained about her manners. He had learnt to keep his mouth shut at an early age. His new companion was much younger, in her thirties maybe. He would have liked her back in the day. The brown knot at the back of her head that kept her hair in place, the stern jawline. And she spoke very little, the trait Cassian loved most about her. He hated that conversations other people forced on him with their false cheer and pleasure. She was definitively not laughing for no reason and he had known a woman just like her many years ago. As the light switch turned and night conquered the room, Cassian pondered her features, and her silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian got a new job. To his discomfort, there were more obstacles than he had hoped for.

The smuggler

He got a new mission. Mostly, he liked his job and he was good at doing it. His Yugoslavian passport let him switch sides in the shadow of the Berlin Wall as often as necessary. But his roots never allowed him real freedom. He was a double-agent, or a triple-agent if the term even exists. The Roman god Janus would have been jealous his father used to say, though he had been the much better spy back in the 50s as well as a soldier in the gruesome war before. Cassian never understood how his mother had fallen in love with an intelligence officer, but, it had happened, he and his older sister were undeniable proof. And in return his father had kept his family safe at all cost.  
In his poshest suit Cassian entered the Adlon hotel and headed for the lobby. The hall was filled with chitter-chatter loud enough to have a secret conversation without being overheard by curious ears. Part of the building still breathed the air of long gone times when Berlin had been a cultural hotspot, a time before dictatorship, war, and walls. Cassian had a tender spot in his heart for broken places full of memory. And it was here where he should meet his latest client, Commander Denisov had told him. Mr. Erso was in his fifties and a businessman. He produced typewriters, but, he wanted to outsource a part of the production in countries of the Soviet Union in order to fasten the economical bonds, or in other words, to make the Iron Curtain a little less iron. At least that was what Mr. Erso told the gossip. He wanted cheap labour force from abroad and thus weakened the English job market even more. That thought his government most likely. Cassian was not interested in any of those theories when he arrived at his glass table. Mr. Erso had brought one of his prototypes and it stood on the tabletop, ready to be inspected. Cassian very much wanted to know how this machine worked that hid inside the shell of a harmless typewriter. How it issued international documents without a civil servant of any country. How it forged the passports for desperate souls who were eager to run from their past and not stupid enough to climb the anti-fascist defence wall, as the GDR administration called their own facility, with bare hands. So Mr. Erso in fact had in mind to riddle the Berlin Wall, however, in a different manner than most expected.  
Cassian took a seat. He had a welcoming smile prepared, the shallowest expression there is in the spy universe. Business went well, they had a good old superficial talk about their surroundings before push came to shove. Erso wanted Cassian to deliver the prototype to a flat in eastern Berlin. If he got caught with it, he was likely to kick the bucket or worse. He would do it anyway.  
Instinctively, Cassian knew he was in trouble when a young woman approached their seating area. She was medium sized, had a small bun behind her head as an excuse for a proper haircut and wore plain dark clothes. A black blouse and blue jeans. The only notable thing about her was her face. She wasn’t smiling, nor blushing as Cassian greeted her. She remained deadly calm. She knew the game. “My daughter Stella”, Mr. Erso presented her. “It’s a pleasure”, responded Cassian while rising from his seat. She smiled for a split second and took the place on the sofa next to her father. In the following conversation she was listening and her father talking. Cassian had to do both and that was hard to do with her as an audience. He was good at multi-tasking, hopefully good enough. He felt doomed because her outer defence wall seemed indestructible. As the talk came to a close, Cassian reached for the typewriter and left the busy hall of the Adlon faster than he had stepped in. He was in a hurry to get out of sight.  
In a subway station he mapped his way to the flat at the other side of the city. But he had one other appointment. Denisov wanted to take a look at the critical parcel first, before it could be sent to its final destination. A risky act for Cassian’s true ambition – please Denisov and Erso alike in order to smuggle out passports for his whole family. To smuggle them all to freedom at last.


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian felt good in the silence he was surrounded by. It felt good until he lost his voice.

Friends

It was past midday as Lydia entered the room to check on his blood pressure. It had been fluctuating lately. She opened the Velcro with the typical scratchy noise. He liked it. He liked it because it was Lydia doing it. He had never asked what she was called, it took him two full days to read the name on the little tag attached to her tunic. Once the tag had been twisted, some other hour his eyes had been just too tired to read a single letter. But now he was able to address her properly, though, he still chose not to talk to her aloud. Instead he just watched her working, how she opened the window or folded towels. And sometimes he told her things when she wasn’t there at all. He whispered them in his head. It was nice to have somebody again who listened no matter what Cassian was brooding over.  
“Neunzig zu siebzig”, she said and took the fastener off his naked arm. His skin was dry and crinkled because he had not been drinking this morning. It took him longer each day to understand German, it was not his native language after all. A bit low, but, 90/70 were not his worst pressures he concluded before falling asleep. 

As he woke, his head was hammering. His blood rushed through his veins. His heart was pumping for his life to fight an invisible enemy creeping in the shadows. It was dark, so he had skipped dinner again. Cassian tried to reach for his bed remote because his head was killing him. The constant beeping let him know his heart was under steady surveillance. A liquid dropped constantely into his IV. They had already taken action. Cassian still wanted to see her comforting face. The face of a friend, he imagined. Therefore, he started a second attempt to grab the device. His hand did not move an inch. He tried stretching his right foot instead and saw no movement at the end of his blanket. Could be it was just the dark, more likely his toes had not moved either. Fear sneaked up in his thoughts. He had experienced this before, it had encaged him here in this room the first time. His left hand trembled and crossed the bed clumsily. Finally, his thumb pressed the red button.  
In less than a minute his room was swarming with staff. His eyes were just looking for one face. When he found it, some of his angst wore off. He tried to speak to her for the first time, however, his wobbling lips produced no words that bore meaning. She took his hand all the same. Her thumb was rubbing the back of his fingers and she was talking to him as well, but he could not understand. It didn’t matter. Lydia looked exactly like her in that moment, or the daughter they had been meant to have. Darkness shrouded his mind. Not now, not like this, I still need to find her, his mind stuttered. I need to tell her… His thoughts ran out. 

For a time, there was nothing on his mind. Slowly the world returned to him in noises, smells, and at last in colours. Pain came back, isolation, his ability to speak did not. He was trapped inside his body. And now he hated the silence around him. There were things still left to say, but, he couldn’t anymore. It seemed he had missed his last chance for seeking forgiveness. It haunted him in sleepless nights. He dreamt of his sister, of her daughter, of his parents. Of the war that had torn his country. The bombs that had destroyed the walls of their house. It had made corpses or monsters of them all. Still, he wanted to explain her why he hadn’t been there. Why he had never looked for her. But he was sentenced to be silent. To be not forgiven. To last while his only pastime was to stare at the white ceiling of his cell.  
Lydia had a week off. Maybe it had been two weeks, Cassian didn’t know. His sense of time was lost. At last, she returned to work at his bedside. She still washed, fed, folded, and cleaned. But she decided to speak as well. It started with short greetings. A few hours later, she told him how much she hated her landlord for raising the rent, and how she had been late the other day because snow had blocked the streets. He listened, though he had difficulties getting it every time. The sound of her voice soothed his worries a little.

About a fortnight later, Cassian still lay silent, but his condition had improved. That was what they kept telling him at least. He still could not say a word. Lydia and he had figured out some other ways to communicate. She was aware the old man still had his wits gathered most of the time. Cassian never found out what drove her to get him this surprise. Maybe pity, maybe kindness. It was no less than the greatest mercy he had ever received. One day she simply rolled it into his room. At first glance, the huge block covered in grey plastic with a small control panel didn't look imposing. The electronic device, though, turned out a prodigy. It could serve as his voice and save him from being mute. It was called “Kommunikator-Typ2-Sprach-Organisatior”, which Lydia shortened to K-2 on the first day. Most elderly patients had great trouble using new tech even if it was there to help them. Cassian however was a natural. He had always liked inventions, he even had bought himself a smartphone for his 70th birthday. Nobody had to explain him how the machine worked. He had figured in a matter of hours by himself. Lydia was impressed but did not show it for long. Cassian loved the “moody mode” of the voice output best, that transformed his device into a cynical pain in the neck of all nurses. The more Cassian got into playing with K-2, the better his brain got back on track.  
“Are you hungry?”, Lydia asked him one morning in German. He first answered in Croatian, only because he had discovered the language switch. It was fun to tease her. She waited patiently for a proper respond. “Patient Andor ate at 8.00 pm last night. Statistics indicate he is never hungry in the morning.” She smiled. The robotic voice made it all sound even more childish. “Can I do something else for the well-fed patient?” “The oxygen levels in this room are alarmingly low and might cause headache”, the robot said. “And cool air poses a real threat to catch a chill during winter”, she objected while opening the window.  
She left the room and Cassian had time to contemplate his situation again. For a split second he had pondered to ask her another favour. A big one. He had his voice back, well, he had a voice back that would serve him to ask the question. But he couldn’t. It was too much.  
Three minutes later Lydia returned with his breakfast. She shut the window and fixed him with her shooting, green eyes. “What is it?” She knew him all too well. “I need to find someone”, he answered with K-2. All the playfulness had left his expression. He was serious, and she saw that. The moment he had spoken, he knew she would not reject him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's waiting for her, but she's late.

Patience

His fingers knocked against the wet window in a restless rhythm. The other hand nearly ripped his father's little cross from its cord in waves of tension. He was waiting for her, again, but his patience wasn’t limitless. Denisov was getting closer to his secrets, Cassian felt it in his gut. They were playing hide and seek, cat and mouse. Cassian was a learned man at this kind of thing. His parents had been on the run since they had met.  
She was a show girl, a singer of Sinti and Austrian descent. Her Sinti blood made her an unwelcome visitor in Berlin and Vienna when Fascism rose. As long as she could keep them entertained, she wasn’t asked too probing questions about her family background. One day in the early 40s, though, the military camp where she had to sing was peppered with hand grenades by Croatian partisan scum as her captors used to call them. The rebels had come for the new bunker the Nazis had built before it was manned properly, she was aware of that. She got between the lines once again and tried to scamper her way to safety. It was luck she had fallen in front of Lieutenant Gojko Andor’s feet, he played the traditional back pipes wonderfully, so he fed her with a song and soup instead of a bullet. His hands were bloody nonetheless.  
Cassian had experienced how his father had worn a mask to hide his pride. He had fought for Croatian independence, not for being the little province of another compound of nations forced to be one by another set of dictators. But, he had married this Austrian girl, had even learnt a little German – the traitor’s language. His former brothers in arms chattered behind his back. Gojko’s way out was to join the new people in power who oppressed what he had been fighting for in the first place. Spying for the wrong kind of people and live felt better than being separated. So Gojko the ruthless played along and made himself a name. He kept his lips sealed all those years. Cassian was nothing like his father. He was ruthless, yes, but he could never be that loyal to a cause. Cassian knew he hadn’t the spine for it. So, he kept drumming on the glass with his knuckles and the rain gave in to his beat.  


His whole day was organised in little time frames. For an hour or two he reported to Denisov. On others he delivered little envelops with the passport of freedom to eastern Berliners. He did not ask for details of their plans, most of them spat out the truth deliberately due to the relief that they were finally leaving. They thought of Cassian as a friend, but, they gave themselves away to a spy. Some he liked and handed false information to Denisov. Others were important to the MI 6 or the BND in Western Germany and thus had to slip through to keep their trust. Denisov understood that. And a final third group of refugees, the majority, Cassian betrayed and sang their song to his Commander. Denisov sold them out to the Stasi, the “Staatssicherheit”, that took the willing refugees under their caring wing. They showed them the advantages of life in the GDR compared to life in a cell for political delinquents first hand.  
Finally, there was this other time he spent with her. His favourite parts of the day. She gave him the envelops, that was her official reason to show up. Now this part of the day was nearly over and she still hadn’t arrived, the frame was closing. Cassian prowled through his two-room-apartment as if he were chased. He monitored the hand of his watch closely while the minutes dissolved into past.  
The quick knock at the back door surprised him, usually she rang the bell. He strode to the window and saw her pressing her body to the wall. Fumbling in his pockets, he found the keys and the door swung open. In a hurry she stormed in and shut the entrance as fast as she had come in. “What’s wrong? What took you this long?” “Someone was at my heels. I think I shook them off, but I cannot return to my place. The Stasi detected me.”  
Cassian sat next to her on his striped carpet. They never talked this openly. He didn’t even know if she was an agent or just somebody’s minion. It wouldn’t change things, they were both shadows of an unknown cause. Their names just hollow words. Most likely disguises to stay away from a true identity. He felt helpless because he sensed his plans crumbling. He nearly had collected all the passports when his sister had gotten divorced this summer. To make it worse, she got herself a child. Her fake identity was not fitting any longer, and he had to come up with another web of lies to make it work. It appeared now, he wouldn’t have time to fix things. If Jyn’s cover had got blown to pieces, hope was lost. She crawled next to him and settled in his lap. He had never seen her cry before. Something was terribly off. She could still return to a life in England after this, he had assumed. But, what did he know about her after all? He reached for her hands and cupped them with his own. She was shaking through sobs. Cassian was a slick talker at work, not so much in private life. Instead he took her in an embrace that should warm through the core, and rocked slowly from one side to the other. Minutes went by and her stream of tears dwindled until a peaceful silence filled the room. “You’ll stay here for now. You’ll stay with me.” Though it came out as an order, it was the right thing to say. “I am here, Jyn, I am not going anywhere.” Another sentence, another promise. He had no place for insecurity. “You know, why my father calls me Jyn instead of Stella?” “No.” “He said I am his little Genie, always full-filling his wishes. So he used to call me Jinny as a little girl and it’s the Jyn I got stuck with at school”, she explained. “Then it’s good I call you the same”, he said and dug his nose in her damp hair. It smelled of rain and falling leaves. Erso was her real father apparently, he thought. She didn’t know anything about his familiar ties. Suddenly, he felt the urge to change that, the need to make her a part of his family picture. He wanted to shut out the world to just be for a time. If only he could.  
They dwelled a little longer on the floor until she got up and went into the kitchen. She was hungry. It pulled a smile on his worried features, and then he followed her to watch her stripping the fridge of its inner parts. His smile grew wider.  
She made pancakes. They were both horrible at cooking, he knew that much after half a year, but pancakes buried under a thick layer of applesauce was easy enough. She was a much better sidekick on the back of his motorcycle, though, he remembered. They fed each other with forks. When they had nearly finished, the glass of apple puree was not quite empty yet. Cassian stuck his fingers in and brushed tenderly other her face spreading the sweet sin on her skin. Without hestitation, she did the same to him and giggled sheepishly. They stopped as he started clearing her face with his tongue, kissing her all over. They ended up on the floor again being curled up in their arms, their fingers tangled never to be loosened from one another. Cassian felt at home. It was a dreamy break he knew he had no time for, but for once in his life he didn’t care. He had run out of patience. She mattered to him, being close to her, holding her tight, and hearing her breathe. With that mantra on his mind, he fell asleep.

He woke from a flash of light. His body rose in a split second, his eyes looking for his gun, his fingers grabbing for hold. He stumbled sideways. His heart was racing. Then he found his senses and gravity in the same moment and relaxed. She had stolen and misused his surveillance equipment. It had been the flashlight of his camera, nothing scary. She laughed at him while he yanked the camera from her hands. For a moment he was angry, but he fast decided to simply turn the tables and hunted her through his apartment. He took several pictures to gain solid proof of her outrageous behaviour as she hopped over the table and climbed up the broad windowsill. The sun was caressing her hair that stood up in all directions like a hedgehog’s spikes. At last, he joined her and pressed the record button a final time to unite them on film as well.  
“Why do you have an Austrian accent while speaking German?”, she asked him out of thin air. “My mother was born there”, he explained bluntly. “Interesting. Any better looking brothers?” “No, an older sister.” “I am an only child”, she admitted. “I figured.” “What? How?” “A genie for a daughter? Come on, you’ve been his spoiled little princess, haven’t you?” She snorted as if she were offended. “Maybe. I am not any more.” “I got that, too.” They were silent for a minute until she went on. “Your dad is not from Austria though, is he?” “Stop”, he gasped. “What?” “We don’t talk about these things. There is no need.” The apartment was robbed of voices again. She lifted herself from his lap. He could sense her anger through the whole room. What had she been thinking? That he had meant what he had said, that he would stand by his word and would not go anywhere. It made him swallow hard. He had messed up. Not now, the promise had been the wrong move, however, it was too late to take it back. He wanted to kick himself for his stupidity. "You know, trust goes both ways, Cassian." She yelled curses at him. “But you're a liar, a spineless prick.” He was all those things, he did not bother to defend himself. It appeared he was loyal after all, to his real family. To his true cause. His impatience had gotten him into this mess.  
While she was still screaming, he heard a gun cock. As he whirled around, the first shot hurled through the room. Denisov stood in an open door. He had keys too, Cassian remembered. The camera was still in his hand. His gun lay in the other room, too far away. Instead he ripped the strap from his camera and ran over to Denisov. The commander realized what was happening the second it was too late. He had aimed for the MI 6 agent and now he got strangled by his own officer. He kicked and pushed to free himself, but, Cassian was well trained. He had done it before. He twisted the strap until it left Denisov no room to breathe. He tightened his grip and stood steadily, avoiding the fists and feet that flew toward him. Some still reached their goal and made Cassian clench his jaw in pain. Denisov’s face turned blue in the meanwhile, in his eyes appeared red spots. They fired soundless screams at Cassian, tiny bleedings that signalled the fight for Denisov’s life came to an end. “Bijedni izdajica”, he had muttered before he shut his mouth forever. Another curse. His limbs froze and the strap slipped from Cassian’s shaking hands to the floor. Gasping he turned to Jyn. She had not moved, blood was spreading on her belly. Her shirt was drenched in dark red while her face had turned grey. As he found his feet to carry him, he stumbled to her side. His hands trembled still while he touched her shoulder. His lungs were on fire, with every breath he took he knew some of his ribs had cracked. But he didn’t care. Jyn had lost consciousness and needed his attention.  
Someone seemed to have called the police because sirens stalked the streets outside his window. He had to think, quickly. “It’s gonna be alright”, he whispered before he fell silent. Jyn’s eyes fluttered open for a second. She placed her hand on her bleeding belly and cried in pain until the darkness took her again. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us”, she had mumbled, however, Cassian didn't listen properly to get the full meaning of her words. He was busy saving her. His instincts had kicked in. First, he opened the gas bottle in the kitchen. He would not fry pancakes, this time much more ought to burn. Then, he carried Jyn out of the room, pressed cloth to her wound with a firm knot, and shoved the camera in its casing. He hurried to the hall as he had gathered his passport, his gun, and some money. Finally, he took Denisov’s lighter out of his pocket. He had watched it vanish there a thousand times after Denisov had lit a new cigarette during their meetings. It worked. The whole place went up in flames. He took Jyn up the stairs to the roof, which connected his house to the next building. There they got out. They had outrun the police who were still busy with the explosion and its aftermath.  
“Jyn?” She was still slack like a sack of water. He placed her in front of himself on his motorcycle and drove to safety. Tears streamed down his face. He had killed Denisov. Though he did not particularly like him, Cassian had seen the photographs in his wallet. A woman and a little boy who looked to be scared of the camera. He fastened his grab around Jyn’s waist at the thought. His own camera bounced at his back. Without knowing how, he had found a hospital, and he carried her inside. She stirred in his arms, maybe because of the pain the new movement brought.  
“Ich brauche Hilfe! Hier ist eine verletzte Frau, bitte, ich brauche einen Arzt!“ His shout echoed through the emergency area and nurses and physicians came to his aid. They took Jyn away from him. He was still in eastern Berlin. They were still in danger. For both of them chances of survival were higher when he left her alone. His feet were not ready to move yet, his eyes swollen and glassy. He needed all his strength to put her ID on a table in the entrance hall. He took of his cross as well, wrapped the lace tightly around her documents, and left for good. No goodbye, no final kiss. He had to vanish from the radar for both of their sakes. Maybe this way she would just be Stella Erso to the staff here, maybe she had the chance to be just another patient without a thrilling story to investigate. Cassian hoped he could do that for her at least. His own cover was in shambles, his other plans ruined. Cassian had no idea where he would go. His clothes were sullied with her blood and he had no friends in town. The only thing he got left was his camera and the photos they had taken that day. He had become the next level of rogue, he had done what needed to be done, but he wasn't proud. He knew he was scarred for life as he left the building.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His breath was tense, and his blood rushed from his ears to his stomach and farer south. He knew where this was headed, and he knew it was a dumb idea. And he knew for sure he didn’t care.
> 
> What matters is how the story ends.

The hour of forgiveness

It was late September, but the sun had decided to grant the population of Berlin one more day of summer. Cassian lay on top of a roof. It was the house where Jyn lived and he was waiting for her to join him. There was nothing better than a nap after a good night’s sleep. The day before, they had successfully smuggled three people across the border. Well, they had finished the secret tunnel under a street which led their clients into a new life. Jyn had looked dashing with the pickaxe ready to hack through everything. Her shirt had been damp, soaked with sweat. Though they had been both in desperate need for a shower, they had hugged tightly after lowering the digging tools. He could still remember the smell of her exhaustion in his nose. It had felt good to hold her close, steadying her in the moment of triumph. They had done this together. Now he lay on the floor of the roof terrace, limbs sprawled. With a smile he welcomed the shuffling sound that announced her arrival. She was still tired, his ears told him. She knelt beside him and shoved his shirt up a little, leaving his stomach unprotected from the sun. He felt her touch and the rays of light caressing his skin. She drew tiny rings around the hollow of his belly button. It made him chuckle. “Any plans for today?”, she asked. “Sleeping?”, he suggested with slumber on his tongue. “Then you’ll be my pillow”, she announced and put her arms on his naked stomach to form a cushion for her head. As she had settled, Cassian drifted back to sleep. But, Jyn being Jyn did not keep her word, instead she waited for the moment she was certain he had fallen deep enough to make him jump with a tease. She lifted her hand carefully from his belly and positioned her palm. Then she pinched him bawdily in his upper thigh. He rose in sudden agony. A raw moan left his throat and he fixed her with his stern, dark eyes. While he recognized his surroundings, he shoved her from his lap rubbing his thigh with back of his hand. Next time he would wear a thick pair of jeans, not thin joggers. His jaw was still clenched and all the while she was giggling like a little devil. “How old are you exactly?”, Cassian wanted to know. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go somewhere”, she blabbed without catering his question. “And where?” “That’s up to you.” Cassian knew he had no choice, as little as they had learnt about each other so far, he already couldn’t resist her eyes.  
Minutes later they had climbed his motorcycle and took off to a garden colony within Berlin’s borders. She was tacked to his back by a firm embrace. Her fingers intertwined at his chest and pressed her breast to his spine. The warmth that spread from her body filled his stomach with a thousand swarming creatures. The butterflies seemed to leave their cocoons all at once. He rode to his “Schrebergarten”. Like many people in the GDR, Cassian ran his own little garden Eden. His bower was tiny, but it provided a roof for a hammock and BBQ equipment. Germans loved their “Grillabende”. He used the garden to socialize and to have a place to just be, where he could plant and grow things without being judged for it. The harvest was nearly over, but Jyn spotted a couple of tomatoes that still waited to be picked. While Cassian was attaching the hammock to the two cherry trees next to the bower, Jyn already ate titbits.  
For the whole afternoon they bummed, arms curled around one another, bouncing softly in the hammock. From time to time Jyn fed him with little tomatoes she had stored in her pockets. Up in the sky the clouds moved slowly, and the sun crawled downward as the evening arrived. The horizon grew red and yellow, and Cassian strolled back to the arbour. When he returned, two glasses and an open bottle of white wine were dancing in his hands. Jyn smiled. She hated wine and he knew it, but at least it was not the red version. “It’s Beerenauslese”, he said more confidently than usual. “Should that ring a bell?” “It’s high quality and still sweet”, he explained. She laughed a little at that. He had desperately tried to convince her that there was a wine for every taste. In return she had complained pricy wines were just dry, which to her was a synonym for ugly. She preferred real liquor to wannabe drinks like wine. That evening, however, she had to surrender because the wine was nothing less than delicious. She had lost the bet. To answer for her debt of honour, she sat down back to back with him holding the glass in one hand and explaining the constellations on the clear night sky with the other. Cassian listened in awe. It was her voice he was getting lost in. As it grew colder, he took out some blankets from the bower and started a fire which crossed all rules of the garden community. Cassian had never liked them anyway. They huddled together underneath the blankets and he rubbed his arms up and down her back. “You’re cold. You wanna go home?”, he asked without being sure what home actually meant. “I am perfectly warm”, she claimed but her icy fingertips that crawled under his shirt exposed her lies. He flinched from the chill. The sheer presence of her fingers made him shiver as well. “I want to stay here. The whole night”, she told him in a strict voice. “Welcome home”, he mumbled. Meanwhile she had climbed on top of him, pushed back his body to the ground and shoved his shirt upward to his chin. Their bodies were covered with the blankets, so he could not see her beside her big green eyes. Instead he felt her. He sensed her fingers warming and wandering above his bare skin. And he felt her as his palms joined in the four-handed piece. His breath was tense, and his blood rushed from his ears to his stomach and farer south. He knew where this was headed, and he knew it was a dumb idea. And, he knew for sure he didn’t care.

___________

“Mum, there’s a letter for you.” The woman took it from the table. “Where are my glasses, Andy?” “In the bathroom maybe? Mum, I am in a hurry, my shift starts in half an hour. I said I am just here for a quick visit” “Don’t worry son, Scotland Yard will not disappear when you bring me my glasses”, she added drily. Andy sighed and started looking. Indeed, she had left them next to the sink. He should know by now, they had been the perfect duo all his life.  
“What’s the matter?”, he asked as he saw her wide eyes. She had already torn the envelope apart. “Still want your glasses?” She was reading just fine. Andy stood there another five seconds, then he leaned a bit forward pulling the little cross out of his shirt with his stretching neck. He searched the room with his eyes until his gaze fell to the table. The papers there caught all his attention. Beside the letter his mother hold in her firm grasp, three old photographs lay scattered on the table in between the remains of their breakfast. One photo showed a young woman climbing a table. Her hair was a mess and her figure dark in contrast to the light that entered through a window. In the second shot she was smiling broadly into the camera. She was much younger, but it was his mother. But it was the third picture that made his thoughts spin. They were both sitting on a windowsill grimacing for the cam lens, he and this younger version of his mother. They looked happy, he decided, only he had never entered this room, had never known his mother at that age. He hadn’t been born yet. His own eyes stared back at him. Andy turned to his mother. “Who is that?”, he demanded. She did not react. Instead she finished reading. Her face was a pale mask behind which she hid another life. “We should fly to Berlin, Andor. Together.” She never used his proper name. He was Andy as long as he could recall. Her words were not an explanation, but it was a start.

_____________________

Lydia was nearly done, her shift ended in a couple of minutes. She was tired and entered the changing room a little early. After sorting her hair and her clothes, she headed for the exit. She hated night shifts because she could not sleep well with the sun up in the sky. As she passed the information desk, she saw a man arguing with the receptionist. He was about her age, lean and not very tall, but his whole body gestured in desperation. “Ich kann Ihnen keine Auskunft über Patienten erteilen…” “Please, does somebody speak English?“, he pleaded toward the ceiling. Lydia was not an expert in foreign languages, but she could try, right? “Excuse me, may I help?”, she interfered without dwelling on the thought any longer. The man took a deep breath in relief and whirled around. “Thanks…” A tiny smile invaded his olive cheeks that were framed by untamed black strands. He looked somewhat familiar, however, Lydia wasn’t sure yet where to put him. She was tired, but his face made her brain ache a little less. “I am looking for a patient.” “Who?”, Lydia answered not able to speak in proper sentences. “Cassian Andor, a nurse here wrote a letter in his name. Her name is…” She needed a second to remember, but then memory flooded her thoughts. The long research it had taken to get the address of the ominous Stella Erso. Finally, two weeks ago she had sent the letter. “It was me”, she interrupted. The man fell silent and drew another breath. “Well… right, good”, he stuttered before regaining focus. “Do you know where I can find him?” “Are you…” She was missing the correct word. As he didn’t answer, Lydia just added, “You’re definitively not Stella Erso.” “I’m sorry. You mean if we are related? I’m Andor Erso. I am her son, Stella’s son.” Lydia nodded in return. At least she was not the only one in the lobby with a lack of orientation. “Lydia Hähnelt, it’s a pleasure.” Finally, the tension in his face wore off. “Indeed, you’ve just rescued me, I guess.” Lydia’s face froze as she eventually had done the math. She bit her lips and then told him to follow her. The receptionist stared at her, but Lydia didn’t pay any attention. Instead she needed to have privacy for this. “Take a seat”, she ordered as they reached a couple of benches in a quiet corner of the entrance hall. The man, whose features she knew from a photograph, did as he was told, his face stern. “I am very sorry, but Cassian passed away nine days ago. It was his… dearest wish to write that letter, to tell her his story…” “She read it.”  
Andor buried his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths. When he looked back up, he had already pulled himself together again. “I am sorry…”, Lydia repeated. She had no better words to offer. Father and son had never met. His mimic was an exact copy of Cassian’s as he pulled an afflicted smile up his lips. They stood in silence for a while. “How?” “He fell asleep with smile on his face.” Just like yours, she thought. Due to his condition it had only been a half-smile, but Lydia decided it counted as a complete attempt. After another five minutes in silence, Andor stood up. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep you waiting here any longer. I have to tell my mother...” “Quatsch, Andor. It’s the least I can do. Cassian became a friend while he was here”, Lydia confessed. He fixed her for another moment. “For friends, it’s Andy.”  
Lydia checked her watch and sighed. It was 8.00 am and even in February the sun had crept out of hiding by that time. Their eyes met. “Coffee? I could tell you something about him”, she offered. “I’d love that”, he said and together they left the hospital. There was nothing left to find here, but outside the whole world was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the typos are mine, as are the real errors. I'm not a native speaker, sincerest apologies. Hope you've liked it anyway.


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